Nothin' Fancy
by LadyChatonLa'mour
Summary: What happens when a marine sniper and his little sister come home only to find their parents dead and zombies swarming? First ever published story! Please review. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Prologue: Daylight Burnin

**Disclaimer**: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of it's characters, merely Arlen and Avery Derringer. (Though I confess I wouldn't mind owning Daryl Dixon lol)

On November 7, 2000, a young colt was born. The first albino Arabian colt that Colt Derringer had seen in over thirty years. There was a huge celebration the next day that welcomed the young mare, Alpine Mountain she was named, into the world.

Two days later, there was another colt born. A bay-colored stallion. Nothing special, just a normal American Quaterhorse. There was no celebration, just a happy horse breeder and his two young children to take care of the newborn. Colt and his thirteen year old son, Arlen, paid little attention to the colt outside of basic maintenance.

No, the love of this colt lay in the hands of the breeder's eleven year old daughter, Avery.

Every day, Avery would take over the colt- whom she lovingly named Winchester, or Ches for short- and his maintenance, but she would also be diligent in taking him out so he could grow up happy.

But as the years passed, all the horses, Alpine included, were sold off to pay for the expenses. Colt grew older and older, his health fading more and more each day.

Arlen joined the Marines soon as his seventeenth birthday rolled around, and served a happy six year term as a sniper before coming back home to the little town outside Atlanta, working on a family-owned farm in the Georgia Country, but not without his disturbances.

Avery was selected at the age of fifteen for a special music school for her singing, even had a chance to become famous, yet she said no and spent her spare time coming home and riding Ches around as much as she could. The last time she saw him, he was happily munching an apple from her step-mother's hand.

She'd been living with a friend in a little town not far from the city.

That was not the happy animal laying in front of her now. In the streets of Atlanta, where he shouldn't have been. He should have been in his pen, eating grass and laying in the sun. But no. He was here. Ripped to shreds, his entrails spread all over the ground around them.

Avery shook her head, pushing up her red sunglasses and massaging her forehead. So much had happened. First the fever spread, then people died...then they came back. The siblings had been in Birmingham, visiting sick cousins, but sped back when they heard of the fever that was plaguing the area. They came home to the dead bodies, obviously suicides, of their father and step-mother. Ches was gone.

After hearing what the CDC was offering, refuge, food, water, they headed to Atlanta. Between Arlen's war-time service techniques and mere good handling of a machete, after some fun survival exercises with her brother, on Avery's part, they'd stripped almost six blocks of walkers with little to no ruckus. There was hardly anything besides the corpses of walkers on the street, save the parked cars and one oddly placed tank.

"Avery," Arlen muttered down to his sister, "Avery, hun, we gotta get movin'. Only a matter of time 'fore more walkers come. There's nothin' we can do for 'im."

The woman looked at her brother, no longer the skinny, oddly tall teenager she remembered waving as he got on the plane to basic, but the muscular, cleanly kept Marine that had come back, and nodded. He'd grown his hair back so that it was maybe two or three inches long, always slicked back and that beautiful mahogany brown color it'd been when he was young, but with the blue eyes of their father.

He wasn't the only one who'd changed though.

Arlen wasn't looking down at his baby sister, but the young woman she'd become over the time he'd been gone. Still a midget compared to his massive six foot five frame, but as beautiful as their mother with her black curls and obsidian black eyes, though they both shared the pale skin of their mother.

"Alright." She gave him a sad smile and pulled her machete out of the skull of the walker she'd put down. She slung the bag of guns over her shoulder, more to find it's rightful owner. The Derringer siblings were more than supplied with guns and ammo, thanks to a quick raid of the military base. Unfortunately, it was getting dark, and they needed to find a place to stay.

"Daylight's burnin', brother. Let's get a move-on."

**((A.N.))** Thanks for reading, guys! I'll update as quick as I can! Please leave reviews, this is my first official fanfic! Lemme know how I did?


	2. Pray for Today

Disclaimer: I don't own The Walking Dead or any of it's characters. Only Arlen and Avery.

Cutting through back alleys and avoiding the main streets as much as possible was really the only smart way to get around the city. Atlanta was huge, but at least that meant there was an abundance of buildings to break in. A sniper's job was go get to a post and cover his tracks before he even loaded his gun. Arlen knew this well, and he couldn't help but smile as he felt his military training kick in.

He and Avery were crouched in an alley across the street from a department store. Walkers had already bashed in the front doors, leaving it abandoned for anyone- or anything- to come in and out as they pleased. The Marine smirked as he used his sister's compact mirror to check around corners for walkers, but in general the viewpoint from where they were covered a lot of ground.

Trained to stay silent during operations, he clicked the small mirror closed again and handed it to Avery, who took it and stashed it in one of the pockets on her cargo pants. She swung her weapon once and nodded, standing and following him in a quiet run to the front doors of the store. There were merely the shifting sounds of the bags against their backs and their boots falling on the ground. There was a lone walker meandering around the store, and it hadn't quite seen them yet, so Avery merely disposed of it by a silenced .22 shot.

'Thank God for silencers.', Arlen thought with a smile. He'd only run a few exercises with his sister since he'd come back from Afghanistan, but they were good excercises that had apparently stuck with her. She was staying silent, alert, and quick, just as he'd been taught before her.

He motioned towards the staircase with his left hand, his other clutching a standard-issue Baretta 92 with a silencer and flashlight attachment.

As quietly as humanly possible, they made their way up the stairs. Again, he watched with pride as Avery pulled the small mirror from her pocket yet again and used it to peer around the corner or the stairwell. She nodded and looked back at him, holding up two fingers, indicating that they should probably stay on the second floor. It was high enough so they could hear pretty much anything coming up the stairs but low enough to jump out of if an emergency escape became a nessecity.

Arlen nodded his confirmation to the silent statement, and they moved up, weapons at the ready.

It was always these tense moments of moving into a new enviorment that Avery hated. She frowned, but let her brother take the lead with his flashlight, being careful not to shine it by any windows now that the sun was low and the sky was darkening. She faced away from him, aiming down the stairs. Nasty surprises be damned, she wasn't having them tonight. They moved like that up the rest of the stairs, back to back, doing a quick sweep before using an office off to the left for the night.

"Clear.", came Arlen's voice from behind her. She chuckled, bringing down and holstering her weapon before she turned back to him. "Awesome. Department store. I need a new shirt, this one's covered in blood…", she muttered in disgust.

Arlen snorted a laugh and brought down the baretta, looping an arm aroung the younger woman's shoulders. "Ya look good with blood. It suits ya more than that dumb music-note crap you used to wear."

Avery rolled her eyes and looked up at him. "Says the man who either wears plaid or camo. Nice. Sugar, you can criticize my style when you actually GET a style.", she said with a smirk.

The older man grinned and shut the door, barricading it with the extendable pry bar he always brought around with him. He'd affectionately named the large bar 'Sparda' because he had to use it as a spear once. That had not been a pretty death for that particular walker.

Avery climbed into the office chair behind the desk, sinking down and exhaling loudly. "Nice pick, brother. No blood for once." It was a small thing to be concerned about, but having to sleep next to bloody walls or furniture on a daily basis did have a depressing effect, she thought quietly. The woman smiled again as she pulled the steel wool and nine volt battery from her pack. The desk wasn't real wood, and the office window was right above one of the decorative trees on the sidewalk below, worst case scenario.

After successfully walker-proofing the office, they started a fire and made some dinner with the cans of food they'd scavenged. With plenty of water, and a decent amount of food, they wouldn't have to be out all that much. They ate and drank in silence, even relaxing for a while before Avery pulled out a map of the surrounding area and laying it on the clear surface of the desk, preferably away from the fire.

"Right. So. I figure we need to be visiting a car lot here soon so we can get us a car. I think we need to be headin' up to these here mountains north of the city. If we're lucky, we can stock up on some fresh supplies and water, then find us a nice little town and go from there."

Arlen looked at his sister with a raised brow. Was she really thinking they were just going to wing it like that? They needed a solid plan. He opened his mouth to say something, but a thump from above made Avery draw out her machete again. The Marine sighed and put his hand on top of hers, and took the long blade from her hands. "We'll deal with it in the mornin'. For now, we both need the rest. Now put the fire out, we'll discuss a plan of action in the mornin'."

Avery looked at him for a moment, tension building in the air, but broken moments later by a badly timed yawn on her part. Both of them laughed, and using the light from a solar-powered flashlight, the fire was put out and the Derringers laid down on their bedrolls, both thanking God for another day on this earth.

((A.N)) I know, intros are taking forever, but I want to cement the relationship that Arlen and Avery have. Series characters start comin in next chapter!


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